


After 02x01 (The Bean Town Bailout Job)

by PseudoLeigha



Series: (More) 2AM Conversations [14]
Category: Leverage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6524461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoLeigha/pseuds/PseudoLeigha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parker and Sophie discuss acting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After 02x01 (The Bean Town Bailout Job)

Sophie was just settling into bed with a glass of red wine and a new script to read when a chirpy, unexpected voice came out of nowhere, saying, “Good work, Sophie.”

She startled badly, spilling her wine all over her script and her comforter. “Jesus Christ, Parker! Ooh, bloody hell! This is never going to come out! How did you even get in here?”

The blonde thief (who had appeared out of nowhere – seriously, was she hiding in the closet or something? – and sat cross-legged on the end of the bed without invitation) gave her an utterly blank look. Right. She was never going to explain how she got in and out of anywhere. “That’s why you shouldn’t drink in bed.”

“What? You – This is not my fault!”

“You startle too easy.”

“I do _not_!”

“You should be more like Eliot. I never sneak up on him,” Parker said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, for the love of – You _can’t_ sneak up on Eliot. We can’t all be ex-Special Forces, CIA, Counter-Terrorism… whatever the hell he is!” The thief flashed her the tiniest of mischievous smiles, and Sophie realized she was being had. “What do you want, Parker?” she groused, fighting her way free of the covers and moving to find new (not wine-soaked) nightclothes.

“Who says I want anything?” the younger woman teased.

“Last time you broke into my flat, it was to tell me to make Nate stop drinking!”

Parker muttered something suspiciously like, “Last time you know about,” as Sophie made her way into the bathroom.

She pretended she hadn’t heard. She had had her suspicions since the thief told her she broke into Eliot’s place on a semi-regular basis, but as far as she could tell, Parker had never stolen or moved anything if and when she did let herself into the LA apartment, so Sophie had considered it a relatively harmless (suspected) behavioral quirk. In any case, it had been at least nine months since the last time she and the thief had had residences in the same city… unless Parker had been checking up on her even before she let it be known that there were tickets reserved for her musical, in which case that was kind of sweet, in a very creepy, Parker-ish way. She returned from the bathroom to see the blonde sniffing at the small amount of wine left in her glass, but otherwise in the exact same position she had been in when Sophie left… sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed from the nightstand where Sophie had left the glass, clearly pretending not to have moved… except for the wine glass in her hand.

She shook her head, despairing at the thought of ever understanding how the thief’s mind worked, and ordered her off the bed so she could strip the linens and their offending wine-stain.

“I really did want to say good work,” Parker said suddenly, several minutes later. Sophie had to think back for a moment before she realized that was the answer to the question ‘What do you want?’… or at least part of it.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Oh, come on, Parker, it’s the middle of the night. You could have said that at any time in the last few days. It can’t be the only reason you’re here. And anyway, good job with what?”

The younger woman shrugged robotically. “Getting the team back together.”

Oh. That. If Sophie was honest with herself (which she hardly ever was), grifting her way around the world just wasn’t the same now that Nate wasn’t chasing her anymore, even before Leverage. She smiled, pleased with the confirmation that she wasn’t the only one who had been bored out of her mind after the team broke up, and (correctly) interpreted the stilted congratulations as a thank-you. “You’re welcome. And…?”

“Why do you keep acting? In plays, I mean,” the girl asked, in the exact same tone she might have used to ask about the décor or Sophie’s choice of costume for a con. It was, however, undoubtedly the real question she was here to ask. “You know you’re bad at it,” she continued, adding insult to injury.

Sophie gave her a frosty smile. “You oughtn’t go around pointing out to people what they’re bad at, Parker,” she reprimanded. “But in answer to your question, I act because I love the stage and the plays, the audience, and the recognition. Theater is… it’s what I always wanted to do.”

“But you do it, every day. It’s what you _do_. With us. You don’t _have_ to be in plays. So why do you?”

Sophie sighed and steeled herself to explain (to a cat burglar, in her bedroom, at half past two, arms full of wine-stained bedclothes – God, her life was absurd, sometimes) that acting and grifting were not really the same job. “It’s different, on a stage, with an audience instead of a mark. Acting… the purpose is to entertain, or sometimes to inform, remember I told you about the Histories?” Parker nodded, brows furrowed as though concentrating fiercely. “Grifting always has a goal, a payoff… something you’re trying to get the mark to do, yes?”

“Like giving you money,” the thief said with another nod.

“Exactly. And the whole point is that they never know you were conning them, at least not until you’re two countries and three aliases away, and when they figure it out, they definitely aren’t thinking about appreciating your skills. Acting, though… It’s all about the audience, making them see you as someone else even though they know exactly what you’re doing. It’s a little like a game, I suppose, and at the end, they appreciate how well you can fool them.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Sophie couldn’t keep the exasperation from her tone. “I don’t know how else to explain it, Parker. Acting and grifting are not the same.”

“Yes, they are.”

“No, Parker, they’re really not. I’ve just told you, they’re completely different. I mean, yes, you use some of the same skills, but… Honestly, how do you think they’re the same?”

She supposed she should have known better than to ask, but a part of her hoped that Parker would give her a few arguments which she could quickly poke holes in, then remake her bed and go to sleep.

“They both have audiences and marks and things you’re trying to get the marks to feel, and parts and lines… it’s _exactly_ the same,” the thief explained. “Except in a play, the parts and lines are in the script and the audience and the mark are the same people, and you want them to feel happy or sad, and in a grift, the parts are in the con, and you make up your own lines, and you want the mark to trust you or whatever, and the audience is really mostly Nate.”

“Mostly Nate?” Sophie repeated, completely thrown by whatever quirk of lateral thinking led Parker to this statement.

“You called him your only fan, back on our very first job. That means he appreciates it, right? So he’s the audience, when you’re grifting.” Parker smiled triumphantly, as though she had just stolen something very expensive.

Sophie could think of nothing to say to, well… any of that, so she opted to change the subject. “What is all this about, anyway?”

“You’re really bad at plays, Sophie,” Parker said earnestly.

The grifter bit her tongue on an acidic come-back, limiting herself to, “What about it, Parker?”

“Well, I thought if I could figure out why you want to be in plays, I could make you stop.”

“ _Why_ , Parker?”

The third time must have been the charm, because she finally got a decent explanation. “Because I really don’t want to go to another play. Last night was okay, because it was to get the team back together, but Hardison says that plays aren’t supposed to be like horror movies, and Eliot says we can’t tell you the truth about your acting, but he also says you shouldn’t lie to your team. But you keep inviting us, and then you ask what we thought of it, Nate says we have to go to be supportive, and you all get mad when I disappear without answering.”

The explanation was delivered in the vaguely cheerful monotone that Parker seemed to consider a normal conversational tone, which made it, somehow, even more difficult for Sophie to stomach. It was true she knew her acting wasn’t _brilliant_ , and Parker couldn’t really be said to be much of a judge of the arts, but most people had more tact. If there had been a convenient wall nearby, Sophie thought she might have taken the moment to beat her head against it. Instead, she offered the only solution she could see to the problem outlined (which would, coincidentally, save her from any more unintentional yet cutting criticism):

“Parker, I promise never to invite you to another play so long as you agree never to talk to me about my acting again.”

“Unless it’s to get the team back together. I want to be invited to that.”

“Okay, fine, yes. Unless it’s to get the team back together. Deal?”

“Deal.” Parker nodded and left without another word, her mission apparently accomplished.

Sophie lay in bed thinking, unable to sleep as she considered the implications of the girl’s words.


End file.
